


A Hero's Destiny

by VeloxVoid



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Shin Ankoku Ryuu to Hikari no Ken | Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon
Genre: Battle Scenes, Bittersweet, Fear of Death, Gen, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, Preparing for Battle, Reflection, Sable Order, Sad and Happy, Self-Reflection, hopelessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27068374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeloxVoid/pseuds/VeloxVoid
Summary: Marth prepares to face his toughest battle yet, but cannot shake off the fear of his death and destiny as he does so.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	A Hero's Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> I had the honour of writing this piece as a part of the "Scores of Heroes" zine, which was absolutely incredible. My piece was inspired by the events accompanying [this song — "A Hero's Destiny" —](https://youtu.be/OW0Egejt9S8) from Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon!

The strait flowed gently. It was a meandering current, one that ran slowly over rocks and splashed softly against the walls that stood either side of it. Its lapping sounds were so pleasing — so easy — that they drowned out the panicked chatter assaulting Marth’s ears from behind him. His party fretted, and Marth did too; the path forward would not be an easy one.

Looking down into it, into the waters that reflected the bright, cloudless midday sky above him, Marth searched the strait as if pleading for it to show him answers. Something deep within him hoped that the light dancing white and crystalline atop it would guide him a path, or instruct him on the best course.

Alas, it would not. Marth pulled his eyes away, to face the great stone constructions ahead of him. This was his decision to face — to find the answers to — and his alone.

These bridges were supposed to be the only thing standing between his party and Chiasmir. They were tall and broad, with pale stone bricks so smooth in texture they looked almost like skin — smooth, supple, and alive ‐ a person more than an object. Creating a path across the strait, they separated Marth from his goal; the Lightsphere and the Starsphere were so tantalisingly close that he could almost feel their power prickling his skin, their hum permeating the still, calm air around them.

Or perhaps that was just the fear: adrenaline coursing through his every nerve, tingling his muscles and readying him for the battle to come. It was preparing him for the worst — preparing him for the death and destruction that would always await at the end of a conflict.

Of course, the passage to Chiasmir could not be simple. Countless figures stood beyond the bridge, their silhouettes like shadows — dark and lifeless — against the heavens above. For a moment they looked evil; their armour and weapons scintillated as sunbeams kissed the steel, looking forged from Medeus himself.

But they weren't evil, Marth supposed. They were merely fighting for what they believed was right, as his party was too. The sounds of the rippling current touched Marth’s ears again. Perhaps they truly  _ were _ guiding his path, and allowing these foolish thoughts to enter his mind.

He scarcely had time to wonder, though, before the enemies made their move.

_ The Sable Order. _

Malledus’ words, warning of the danger, rang in Marth’s ears as the figures came at him. Across the unyielding, sturdy stone bridge they ran, the hooves of their horses clattering against brick with dull thuds. Above it all, the riders’ bloodthirsty howls pierced his eardrums, carrying on the sharp winds that whipped through Marth’s hair and biting into the bare skin of his face. The sun above was warm, he knew, but it did not reach him; the cries leaving the mouths of the Sable Order chilled him to the bone.

Marth braced himself. He tightened his hold upon the Wyrmslayer — wishing desperately that it was Falchion — and called orders to the rest of his small, ragged party.

These calm, tranquil waters did not deserve to witness the destruction about to take place. But they would. They would swallow up the corpses that would fall lifeless into them, and wash away the streaks of red left in Marth’s wake. These waters would not tell Marth his destiny or how to act, for that burden lay on his shoulders. They simply watched silently as the _ Sable Order  _ hastened across the bridge on stoic, steadfast horses, lances raised high as they descended upon the party.

Marth raised the Wyrmslayer, heart beating heavy in a chest tight with adrenaline, and took the first slash towards the path of his destiny.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to follow me over on Twitter ([ @VeloxVoid](https://twitter.com/VeloxVoid)) if you'd like to see more of what I have coming up!


End file.
